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Saturday, April 30, 2005

Since "Angel" and "Buffy" went off the air, I haven't been watching much television. However, a couple weeks ago, I had the opportunity to watch a number of the reality TV shows. Herewith, my observations:

American Idol: Some of the singing was good; most was just passable (these are the finalists?) and the attempts to build up suspense were tedious. I can't help thinking that the show would be enormously better if they ditched all three of those annoying panelists and brought back Ed McMahon and the "spokesmodel" category.

The Apprentice: I only caught the last half of this, with its trademark "You're fired!" delivered from behind this enormous conference table in a darkened chamber. This had something to do with putting together an ad campaign for Buick. Or maybe Pontiac. Again, the attempt to build up suspense was tedious. I'm also a little confused -- didn't Trump make his fortune in casinos and real estate? What does he know about automobiles?

Simple Life: I think that's its name; the one with the descendant of hotelier Conrad Hilton in it. Boy, is he rolling in his grave. Absolutely unspeakable.

The Amazing Race: Probably the only one of the above lot I'd not get up off the couch to change the channel for if, heaven forbid, it happened to be on. Visually interesting in a travelogue kind of way.

MTV's Real World/Road Rules gladiator-type whatever: A lot like Battle of the Network Stars, only instead of, well, network stars, these twenty-something folks apparently used to be on either Real World or Road Rules. Also, they all live together and wear a lot of lycra.

Extreme Makeover - Home Edition: Probably the only one that doesn't have a tawdry or mean-spirited premise. They re-build a house for some deserving family. In one week. The host really needs to cut back on the caffeine, though.

Iron Chef America: Not bad, but lacking much of the charm of the original.

The Bachelor: The unspeakable in pursuit of...well, never mind.

Supernanny: You can discipline your child, but only if someone with an English accent tells you it's okay.

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

Readers of a certain age will know the words to the Preamble of the U.S. Constitution, not because of a particularly good civics education, but because of the television program "Schoolhouse Rock," which provided various "lessons" set to music and played during Saturday morning cartoons in the 70s and 80s:

We the people of the United States, in order to form a more perfect union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.

Various European states are in the process of considering whether to adopt a Constitution. Its Preamble follows:

HIS MAJESTY THE KING OF THE BELGIANS, THE PRESIDENT OF THE CZECH REPUBLIC, HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN OF DENMARK, THE PRESIDENT OF THE FEDERAL REPUBLIC OF GERMANY, THE PRESIDENT OF THE REPUBLIC OF ESTONIA, THE PRESIDENT OF THE HELLENIC REPUBLIC, HIS MAJESTY THE KING OF SPAIN, THE PRESIDENT OF THE FRENCH REPUBLIC, THE PRESIDENT OF IRELAND, THE PRESIDENT OF THE ITALIAN REPUBLIC, THE PRESIDENT OF THE REPUBLIC OF CYPRUS, THE PRESIDENT OF THE REPUBLIC OF LATVIA, THE PRESIDENT OF THE REPUBLIC OF LITHUANIA, HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE GRAND DUKE OF LUXEMBOURG, THE PARLIAMENT OF THE REPUBLIC OF HUNGARY, THE PRESIDENT OF MALTA, HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN OF THE NETHERLANDS, THE FEDERAL PRESIDENT OF THE REPUBLIC OF AUSTRIA, THE PRESIDENT OF THE REPUBLIC OF POLAND, THE PRESIDENT OF THE PORTUGUESE REPUBLIC, THE PRESIDENT OF THE REPUBLIC OF SLOVENIA, THE PRESIDENT OF THE SLOVAK REPUBLIC, THE PRESIDENT OF THE REPUBLIC OF FINLAND, THE GOVERNMENT OF THE KINGDOM OF SWEDEN, HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN OF THE UNITED KINGDOM OF GREAT BRITAIN AND NORTHERN IRELAND,

Drawing inspiration from the cultural, religious and humanist inheritance of Europe, from which developed the universal values of the inviolable and inalienable rights of the human person, democracy, equality, freedom and the rule of law, Believing that Europe, reunited after bitter experiences, intends to continue along the path of civilisation, progress and prosperity, for the good of all its inhabitants, including the weakest and most deprived; that it wishes to remain a continent open to culture, learning and social progress; and that it wishes to deepen the democratic and transparent nature of its public life, and to strive for peace, justice and solidarity throughout the world, Convinced that, while remaining proud of their own national identities and history, the peoples of Europe are determined to transcend their ancient divisions and, united ever more closely, to forge acommon destiny, Convinced that, thus "united in its diversity", Europe offers them the best chance of pursuing, with due regard for the rights of each individual and in awareness of their responsibilities towards futuregenerations and the Earth, the great venture which makes of it a special area of human hope, Determined to continue the work accomplished within the framework of the Treaties establishing the European Communities and the Treaty on European Union, by ensuring the continuity of the Community acquis, Grateful to the members of the European Convention for having prepared the draft of this Constitution on behalf of the citizens and States of Europe, Have designated as their plenipotentiaries:

(list...)

Who, having exchanged their full powers, found in good and due form, have agreed as follows:

I'm almost positive that no work containing the word "plenipotentiaries" has ever been set to music.

Tuesday, April 26, 2005

A football playbook is, apparently, a volume of some complexity. (Non-sports fans, please refrain from snickering -- no, of course it's not as complex as, say, your average calculus text, but when was the last time you had to integrate a function while a metric ton worth of linemen were barreling at you?). Somewhat analagous to choreography, it (the playbook) requires the players to memorize and know by name a variety of plays, which describe actions including who needs to be where when such that the ball can most effectively be transmitted (by them) into the opposing end zone for a touchdown.

Recall now the 1985 Chicago Bears, coached by Mike Ditka. In addition to making effective use of the talents of Walter Payton, somewhere along the line, Ditka got the idea of giving the ball to the biggest guy on the field, William "The Refrigerator" Perry. For doing what everyone who has ever touched a football knows, Ditka was lauded as a genius.

They won the SuperBowl.

So, next time you have a block in your writing, whether writers' block or you can't quite figure out a logic problem in your plot, do what Ditka did. Go back to basics. Consider the obvious.

Friday, April 22, 2005

Thus spake (possibly a paraphrase) Gustav Stickley, he of the arts-and-crafts movement, that was a reaction against Victorian decorative excesses (in my view, justifiably).

Nevertheless, Gustav's pithy bromide could probably use a little editing or, perhaps, lawyering up. "Useful" is self-explanatory, I suppose and in perfect keeping with the arts-and-crafts philosophy. "Beautiful" is also fine, except, well, it's too big a loophole and therefore can lead to inconsistency with the Gustav philosophy and lots of stuff being left out on display or at least not behind glass. Beauty, of course, is in the eye of the beholder and it is entirely possible that someone could think that a room filled with useless trinkets and gewgaws was beautiful. Or worse, useful things used only for display – this would include, say, unread books that are used to simply occupy shelf space or a baby grand piano so covered in Precious Moments figurines that the keyboard cannot be accessed (In case you were wondering, the piano is the useful thing).

Now, the obvious thing is to edit the quote so that it reads "Have nothing in your home that is not useful and beautiful." While this closes the loophole, it perhaps raises the bar a bit too high and requires more than casual analysis.

Therefore, let me propose this, with all due respect to Gustav: Have nothing in your house that is not useful or meaningful.

Why "useful or meaningful"?

Because it implies that everything in the house that must be dusted or cleaned (or moved to provide access to something else that must be dusted or cleaned) is there for a reason unique to the homeowner, and that it has meaning beyond its intrinsic aesthetic qualities.

Further, it provides that your dwelling will look like you; it will reflect your interests, and not some design "vision" that has all the individuality of a hotel lobby.

It also provides a sensible ground rule when undertaking your spring cleaning: If you cannot identify what use an object is or what an object means to you, then it should go. Give it to the Salvation Army or sell it in a garage sale.

Thursday, April 21, 2005

On one of my procrastinatory meanderings about the Internet, I came across a reference to a referendum soon to be held in Arizona. If passed, it will require that at least 65% of the operating budget of any school district be spent on "in the classroom" activities. (The national average is apparently something on the order of 61% - the difference amounts to billions that, it is said, could be spent on teacher salaries.). An organization called "First Class Education" is apparently behind this.

Since I do not intend this to be a political blog, I decline to say whether I think this specific policy implementation is a good idea. One thing, however, particularly struck me as being a bit odd. The First Class Education web site describes what it considers to be an "in the classroom activity," which they claim is based on some definition provided by the National Center for Education Statistics:

The National Center for Educational Statistics definition of “in the classroom spending” appears below. Generally, if the expenditure has to do with direct instruction of students in any form, from learning to read a book, read music, read Braille, to learning to read a football pass protection pattern, the expenditure is counted as being an “in the classroom” expense.

Tuesday, April 19, 2005

If you can identify the (a) the source and circumstances of the quote (within an acceptable degree of precision) and (b) the typo in the original, thou art a geek forever (and not [necessarily] of the chicken-head-biting-off kind).

I tend to think of this quote when asked how I go about writing.

Often, beginning writers are more than merely curious about my admittedly idiosyncratic methods. Some seem to feel that there is a "magic rule" to writing a novel - that if they simply uncover the magic rules they will have a novel. And a good one, too. In truth, of course, there is no such magic pill. What works in one situation will not necessarily work for another. Kind of like building a bridge.

Recently, I was asked whether I start with a character and then write to allow the plot to develop, or start with the plot and then let the characters develop.

The answer: a little of both. I'll start out with a situational idea (e.g., the Galileo story in junior high or a vegan in a deli) that has a beginning and an end, but nothing remotely resembling a plot outline. I will, however, populate the situational idea with relatively well-developed characters. I'll then write a first draft.

Like those of Hemingway, my first draft will be [insert scatalogical metaphor]. I will then go back and work out the problems in the plot. Once this is done, the characters go back and make it work.

Think of trusting your reader as an aspect of being true to your character (not you, personally, the ones in your book). Your character will know stuff you don't, and also stuff you (or the reader) don't necessarily need to know. That's what makes a well-rounded character -- if there weren't this idea that he has a depth beyond that which is presented, he won't seem realistic.

For example, toward the end of NINJAS, I have a scene in which Elias comes home, his father is sawing away at the cello, and Elias observes that something to the effect that "Beastmaster VII ran downstairs and hid under the Flemish double harpsichord."

Now, a harpsichord is a fairly unusual instrument (these days). A Flemish double harpsichord is even more unusual. However, Elias doesn't think anything else about it, does not explain why on earth the family would own a Flemish double harpsichord, or even tell the reader what a Flemish double harpsichord is. He just goes upstairs to confront his father.

He does not expalin because he would not explain. To him, the Flemish double harpsichord is as much a part of the background as a televison set.

Monday, April 11, 2005

Okay, my wife will tell you this is not an unusual condition. But, I just heard on the radio that "Sesame Street" is re-working the Cookie Monster ("CM") in response to the "obesity crisis." Cookie Monster, of course, was the blue muppet with the googly eyes who had the all-cookie diet and the sublime theme song "C is for cookie." Apparently, the folks at Children's Television Workshop are going to be having CM assert (and put to music) that "cookies are a sometimes food." AAAAGHH!!!

Several things are deeply wrong with this. First, CM never actually ate the cookies. After all, he is a muppet, made of various types of cloth. When he seized the cookies, he generally made a mess and scattered the things across the set, but never actually ingested the things via his "mouth." (As a child, I noticed this, and had/have enough of my parents in me to think that this was a waste – I will concede that possibly I am not representative). Second, it is completely not in character that CM would, after a lifetime (35+ years) of deriving sustenance from the most elegant and efficient of confections, that he would suddenly and arbitrarily have an epiphany and utterly reject his favorite. Third, what's next? I think it can be asserted without fear of contradiction that unhygienic living conditions have killed more people than obesity. Oscar the Grouch lives in a garbage can. Are they going to have him move to a gated community in the suburbs and actually bathe regularly? Or maybe they should quarantine Big Bird because after all, he may be susceptible to bird flu?!

Saturday, April 09, 2005

Today was the signing for author Anne Bustard and illustrator Kurt Cyrus's Buddy, a picture book biographical tale of Buddy Holly.

Anne, Kurt, and Book People put on a great show, filled with a reading, music, Buddy Holly glasses, and an art sale (of the original watercolors). Prominent attendees included illustrator Don Tate, authors April Lurie, Julie Lake, Brian Yansky, Phil Yates, Annette Simon, and Jane Peddicord; numerous members of SCBWI Austin; and former employees and owners of the much-missed Toad Hall Bookstore.

The panel on Humor in Multicultural Literature, with Alex Sanchez, Roger Leslie, Cynthia Leitich Smith, me, and moderated by Victor Schill. (Thanks to Victor's good offices, there are also plans to do a similar panel at ALA this summer in Chicago.).

Sunday, April 03, 2005

Pope John Paul II died yesterday. While I'm not Catholic, I'm a native of Chicago, a city that has more people of Polish ethnicity than any city in the world other than Warsaw. (For those interested, PBS's American Experience series did a show called "God Bless America and Poland, too"). I still remember both when John Paul II was shot and when he went to Chicago -- believe me, both were big deals. For his lengthy service and his anti-communism, he deserves honors.

As I said, I'm not Catholic, so the thing I associate most with John Paul II (other than going to Poland during the height of the Cold War and facing down Gen. Jaruzelski (sp?)) is somewhat secular and, well, literary: When I was a teenager, I read a novel by Morris West called "The Shoes of the Fisherman." It was published sometime during the 1960s (I believe), and it featured the first non-Italian pope in some 400 years. He was a fierce anti-communist from eastern Europe. Poland? No. The Ukraine, which was pretty close. I found it oddly prescient and a little creepy in the same way that I regard the guy who, circa 1900, wrote the novel about the "unsinkable" ocean liner called "Titan" that hit an iceberg...

Friday, April 01, 2005

Pinned, by Alfred C. Martino (Harcourt, 2005). Martino's first novel, Pinned, offers the story of two wrestlers, Ivan Korske and Bobby Zane, and their respective quests to win the New Jersey State Wrestling Championship. Ivan, a driven outcast at a middle class school (his only friend is Shelley, the girl next door), is mourning the death of his mother and desperately needs to win to land a scholarship to college in Arizona, as far away from his hometown as possible. Bobby, from an upper middle class family (his parents are a lawyer and a real estate agent) finds his focus on the mat even as his parents' marriage is dissolving, and he discovers that having sex with his girlfriend can have consequences. Martino, a former wrestler and wrestling coach, adroitly captures the grit and passion of the sport as the wrestlers strive for victory and to make weight.

Also of interest to fans of wrestling: Wrestling Sturbridge, by Rich Wallace (Knopf, 1996)(scroll down for mini-review)